Conjecture
by Maverick87
Summary: Nobody cared, but who would have thought strangers can surprise you? Pending Oneshot


**Legal Disclaimer: I don't own Sonic…**

**Conjecture**

I never like being in these places. Smelly, crowded and toxic; it makes being in public seem like a social and hygienic ousting. It's the kind of things people _actually_ wear in this community! Obesity should never give permission to wear tube tops. Neither should longevity now that I'm thinking about it…The fashion police would need to use capital punishment if they saw these guys. Resulting in a syringe shortage combined with packed cemeteries in no time at all.

Who am I to joke though? My stomach is a little pudgy from a decade of…well…doing nothing really…Heh. My skin is peeling from minor sunburn, an murky green beanie covers my head and ears, cheap green sunglasses conceal my eyes, a dirty, overused leather jacket I've worn to the point of retirement keeps me warm, bright, neon-blue workout pants make me noticeable, and my old red sneakers give off a sense of nostalgia to those who remember; all the while I'm just waiting the time away. A 44oz. BIG GULP of Sierra Mist and a sloppy sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit don't help matters. At first glance you might think I was homeless, or blind.

The fingerprinted windows remind me of my constant, annoying problem: I've faded away. I've faded away and no one could give a crap…

A "burn out" would have been so much better.

Think about it. Would you rather die gloriously in battle? Or go down with something boring like "natural causes"? An easy, easy, easy choice for me.

I'll be the first to admit that saving the world on a daily basis was fun, it never got old, and provided plenty of "wanted" attention and excitement. But no one lives forever and Robotnik had to go down eventually.

Guess how he died? Natural causes! No technologic, madcap invention that could stop the passage of time. Science tries and desires to trump the final destination, but we all know it'll all come to nothing in the end. Everyone dies and the world continues to rotate.

Thinking of what should have been can be one downer of a pastime. Me and Robotnik were supposed to _kill _each other. A perfect ending to the perfect rivalry right? No loose ends and I am immortalized in the memories of every single person around as the hero who died for the world!

They're called "storybook endings" for a reason.

My watch tells me the bus is late again. Why is it always late when I want to get on it? IS there some sick freak of a bus driver who likes to mess with me? Seriously, it comes later every day and I've got stuff to do! Ugh. Now more grotesque people are piling into this little 6 by 8 foot holding area! My drink is ready to pop from the pressure of others squeezing in…Can't they wait outside? Do they really need to light up that bad?

For some reason these little cells have become a smoker's oasis. The city's been stepping up on antismoking campaigns and now you have to smoke outside or head to the nearest bus stop. The mood point is when they blow smoke in your face. Even better is the occasional butt on your shoes. If I hadn't made it a habit to keep my identity a mystery then maybe they'd give me some respect.

The antilock brakes of my ride home (Bus 114) cut through the muffled chit-chats and coughing spits of those addicted for too long. I can finally stop drowning in second-hand smoke and get out of here.

The crowd around me starts to empty outward into the morning fog, their silhouettes softly disappear like ghosts as I watch them. I like to be the last to get on so I can survey who exactly I want to sit by. If you get on first then you're practically guaranteed a weirdo and _everyone_ hates a weirdo.

The cold dampness in my left hand jogs my mind. I was supposed to eat _before_ the bus got here and now the greasy puce-like wrapper just looked completely unappetizing. Skipping meals is the last thing I need, or at least that's what the doctor says.

The bus driver takes my card ceremonially with a scowl; he hates his job. I would to if I had to see these faces everyday…Oh wait…I already do. This is the only bus to mine and everybody else's apartment. The same passengers, the same destination, and the last stop before the end of the line; we're a big crowd and the main reason why the bus driver still looks like he wants to poke his eyes out with chopsticks. He'd be able to go home and sleep an hour earlier if not for us. The nightshift isn't kind to its victims and he's looking pretty sleepy at seven in the morning.

"Are you going to take your card mate?"

The Australian accent took me off guard. He probably thought I was undressing him with his eyes. Taking it, I turned and surveyed the group before me as the bus door swooshed to a close.

Pretty much the same old bunch…wait…who's this now?

A mongoose? A pretty one? Nice.

Rushing and almost stumbling, I get nearer to her seat. She's listening to an iPod, eyes closed, pink miniskirt, yellow tank top, and nice ballistics…I guess she won't mind at all.

Her eyes flashed opened as I sat down. A beautiful, deep, unrecognized cerulean color, the kind anyone could get lost in…

Now it was her time to survey. A scrunch of her nose. She's…sniffing me? I just remembered the shower I took two days ago. I've sweated since then…and now…

Gone. Just like that she gets up and almost knocks my drink over.

I inspect my armpits to make sure her analysis was correct.

I smell like corn chips…darn it all…

The window seat is mine till home though. The watching of scenery pass by is a good, albeit pointless to some, therapy. Better some than none.

The door up front slides open to reveal a surprising sight; a polar bear. To see something like that around here is the equivalent to pigs flying. I wonder what he's doing around here anyway? In the summer time for that matter?

Should I get up and leave? He's heading right this way and he's freaking huge…I should _leave_. I should _get up_.

Too late now. We're seat buddies until the end of the ride.

At least he _smells_ good.

The window is more accommodating by the minute. I was really hoping to not get a weirdo, but he looks almost as bad as I do, similar beanie too. His fur has a _yellowish_ tint. Is that normal for polar bears? Or any creature for that matter?

"Can I help you?"

His voice is deep. It fits his frame…

"Hello? Can ya hear me?"

I'm still staring. An answer would suffice for him.

"Uh…um…well…yeah."

Wonderful job. Maybe he'll punch my lights out next…

"It must be pretty hard for you to accept a polar bear on your 'normal' everyday bus huh?"

I nod.

He smirks now, revealing sharp, sterile, teeth. Decapitation? Maybe bite my head off in the literal sense? I wouldn't put it past him.

"Good to know you're just another idiot who seemingly can't accept change into your life. 'Oh my god a polar bear!' 'Let's stare at him until he does something!' Where do you get off with that?"

If he could see my eyes I'd look taken aback. I know people have bad days, but I merely stared at him! Why go off on me? Seriously? Time for a rebuttal.

"Well if you expect people to do that then why let it bother you?"

"You wouldn't understand constant attention."

I chuckle. If he only knew…

"I understand it plenty."

Now he's laughing.

"That's rigggghhhhhht. You're a hobo! Of course you know what I'm talking about! Tell me though, what do you do with the 0.75 cents you earn daily? Have people ever hurt you from getting too close? Do you hold a misspelled sign up for extra sympathy? A coffee cup too?"

For some reason I find this oddly funny…

Now we're both giggling.

"Sure! Of course! I do the works! Shopping cart, an old mannequin head, I even pretend to speak in a different language to get more people!"

"Haha! Now that is the way to get attention! You want to let me in on this venture bud?! We could make millions if we hit the 'right' parts of town!"

"Sorry. I work alone. Two hobos in the same area might draw the cops or something. Besides it's a science really. You got to know how to whimper, beg, and the occasional dying on the inside…"

"That doesn't sound so hard, besides given your condition…"

"And then you come home to your third story apartment and wonder how you keep living with yourself as the worst human being on the face of the earth…"

"Wait…You're not homeless?!"

He seems shocked now. I did I look _that_ bad? Maybe I should become a beggar…

"Um. Nope. I just rushed out of bed today throwing on whatever I could…You know how that it is don't you?"

"Wow." He smirks again. "You really had me going there for a second. I thought you were just a funny hobo guy riding a bus! Man how people amaze you! So what do you normally do?"

Should I give him the "whole" story? The great epic poem: The Rise and Ridiculous Slow, Painful Descent of One Pathetic National Hero Hedgehog…?

Nah. I'll stick to the basics.

"I go to Station Square Tech. Majoring in Film and Television, I'm a full-time student."

"Yeah, but what do you do for money? You look a tad bit old to hitting up your parents."

"Oh well…"

Searching for an answer…..What fabrication should I say here?

"Well?"

"I got a rich uncle overseas…He wires me money whenever I need it."

"Would he wire it to you if he saw you dressed like this?"

I really thought Polar bears were non-vocal creatures…but this guy is a riot.

"Hah. Probably not like this, but then again I haven't seen him in years, so he probably expects this."

"Must not have high expectations huh?"

"I had set pretty high ones for myself. I am still around somewhere in the massive abyss of it all…But what about you? What do you do?"

"I have the wonderful occupation of 'relaxation expert'."

What is that? A masseuse? A prostitute? Oh god. What if he _is_ a prostitute?! Is that why he is so friendly? Curiosity forces me to ask.

"What is a 'relaxation expert' as you put it?"

"Oh! My bad. It means I'm unemployed for the time being."

Worry has turned to relief. Fear sucks. Something about the thought of…don't get into it. I don't want to think about _that_. But what is it with this guy? He seems so personable that it's killing me!

"What'd you do before losing your job?"

"Lived in the artic and hunted fish. Like any normal polar bear would do. But I gotta sick of it. Sick of the repetition and monotonous way of life, so I came here, to Station Square, spice things up."

"Got any ideas?"

"Maybe be an artist or something. I was always good at drawing things. Landscapes and such."

Silence now and we're looking away from each other. The stereotypical file in my mind, classified polar bears, has now been ripped to shreds. He is a card, a character, an enigma. Life is so messed up. Is this why they say everything happens for a reason? Was I supposed to meet this guy somewhere down the line and have a friendly chat? Pssh. Answers are impossible to get at times…I still feel like talking.

"This weather is probably bothering you huh?"

"Yeah. It's killing me. I've actually thought about shaving my fur straight off. But then I'd be embarrassed to walk around."

"Pssh. You could be me. I'm embarrassed all the time."

"You dress like that all the time?"

"For a long time really. Associating with anyone becomes a pain. And seeing myself lately just reminds me of how crappy things have turned out."

God. I just killed the mood. Why the hell am I talking so "depressingly" all of a sudden? Practically everyone else is off the bus already. Just leaving me and him alone in the teal-stained seats and faded chrome, metal floors.

"What did you used to do?"

"Save the world."

"Let's be serious here."

He's grinning again.

"I am."

"Were you a fireman?"

"I…sort of."

"Well…why did you quit?"

"I was laid off when the boss man died."

"Oh. Weren't there any other places you could have gone to?"

"I looked around but nothing came up. Everybody's _great_ now that the fights are over."

I was clenching my fists hard. This was maddening to think about it all over again. Ten years. Ten long years and nothing, not a fight or a race, the excitement was gone. No one called, no one cared. I was only loved when the world mattered on my existence…

"Fight?"

"You don't know who I am."

My melancholy words are so self-destructive…

The bear's teal eyes studied me hard, like trying to find the cause of death on a murdered body.

"You wanna enlighten me then?"

Time to change the subject.

"You ever study astronomy?"

"What?"

"I took it last semester. You study the stars, the moon, the planets, whole galaxies really."

"What's your point?"

"I made an A in it."

"And?"

The bear looked confounded by my rambling.

"All those little specks in the sky, stars, there are so many of them, so many beautiful constellations, and nobody gives a crap about it."

"Well that is because they have no effects on anything. Sure there were ancient predictions, but nowadays they're just something to look at."

"Exactly. Nobody remembers what they did for us, without them we wouldn't be here. The same can be applied to-"

"To you?"

"Yeah…to me."

The bus is still moving. We just passed the bait shop. Five more minutes and I'll be home.

The bear looks at me again, opens his mouth to say something, and then refrains.

"What? What were you going to say?"

"I just remembered who you are. I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"Hmph."

Great. I was just messing around but now he knows. What to say now? He'll probably give me the same look everyone else does upon realization of who I am. That endearing look of disgust and disappointment, that frightening experience of seeing a person you idolize dissolve into nothingness. They say there is nothing quite like the present, but I'd sell my soul to go back to the past. Time is a essence I can't smell.

"Sonic the hedgehog…"

He's laughing hysterically all over again. It's making me angrier.

"You know I should feel honored, blessed in a better sense that I would ever get to see you in person!"

"Go ahead then, laugh and move on. It's _freaking hilarious_ to see me so far down right?"

My words stung a little; he just stopped laughing. Our gazes fell upon each other again; he looked so determined, so focused on staring me down.

"Look Sonic, I just find it ironic as hell to see you number one, and two, to see you riding a _bus_. Did you just give up running? I just find it funny that the 'fastest thing alive' would use public transportation to get around."

"All running does is remind me of the past."

"Then stop living there. I mean all you're doing is wallowing in self-doubt and self-degradation. You should feel proud that you even lived the life you did!"

I don't why he was trying so hard to cheer me up. A fisherman trying to give _me_ advice? Hah. Unbelievable. He didn't know what it was like.

"I am proud of how things used to be, but every time Robotnik went down, every time I won, saved the day, I felt a step closer to my biggest fear."

"Of living a _normal_ life?"

"Pretty much…"

"That's a strange thing to fear."

"It wasn't just that. It's the abandonment of it all. I know how people work. I don't even have friends anymore. They all left me when it ended. No phone calls or nothing."

The bear's eyes grew a little wider at that. Maybe now he was getting it. I didn't mind the normality, I minded the loss of everything I came to love.

"That must have hurt you a lot. Friends for all that glory only to spit on you and walk away after it all ends."

I could have told him more. How I moved in with my parents, how I had to spend three years studying stuff kids at age fourteen already knew, how to get a G.E.D. to just attempt to go to college. All those years protecting the world and then realizing I didn't have a clue on how to live in it.

"Life goes on I guess huh?"

"Take the disguise off."

"What? Why?"

"You shouldn't hide from yourself."

"It's not just myself I'm hiding from."

"Screw what anyone else thinks! Everyone on this planet owes you _their lives_! Even me! Sonic, if you keep hiding like this, you know you're gonna destroy yourself."

He sounded like my father; he was right. Why was I so afraid of people seeing me? The laughter _would _subside. Eventually everyone could come around and _accept_ me as a _normal functioning member of society_. All I had to do was take in stride…

I took off the glasses, discarded the jacket, the beanie, everything. No more hiding, no more "Maurice" (God I hate my birth name), I was Sonic the hedgehog! And anyone who couldn't give me respect, could bug off!

Confidence brimming through me, I gave the bear my trademark smirk. He returned it with his own.

"You still look like a hero to me Sonic."

"Thanks…By the way what's your name anyway?"

"Bark. My parents said I was as tough as a sequoia so uh…yeah…"

He looked humiliated to even mention it.

"Our parents really suck at names…"

We laughed all over again. The bus came to a stop.

"This your stop?"

"Yeah. I live in those apartments up ahead."

I pointed out the complex out with my right hand. Bark looked impressed by them. After all they were the best in town. I didn't like telling people I had tons of money from all the endorsement deals of the past. Secretly I was a rich bastard who lived liked he worked on minimum wage.

"Wow. You're really lucky to live in a place like that!"

"Aren't you coming?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're living with me buddy. I need someone like you to stay around…You keep my spirits up."

"Well that is an interesting offer Sonic, but I need to take care of some things first. I just got here so I'll call you around."

We exchanged numbers and I got off. The bus driver was a little surprised to know that someone had stripped down in his bus, but since I was leaving he didn't seem to care that much.

The weather was still warm, but not hot enough to break a sweat. Somewhere around seventy degrees and the slight breeze made things even better. The smile could not leave my face.

Was this what life was really all about? Finding some random person on a bus and having them change your entire outlook on… well…everything? Like I said before life can be strange, but today was the "good" kind. The reason to live outweighed the reasons not to. I didn't owe anybody anything, and my life was exactly what it was; mine. I still had the whole day to go on. I was ready to cliché, and "seize the day" as so many others liked to do. The conjecture to live the fullest and not stay so down on such trivial crap, for once I agreed with it. God, this happiness was such a natural high that even the sudden overcast couldn't get me down!

**B**41**O**424**O**421**M—C**4**R**14**A**13**S**21**H—sCrEaMiNg!?! **

Something shoved me to the ground. If I didn't put my hands out in front of me I would have hit my head...

I got up and dusted myself off. A couple cuts and maybe one bruise, but what was that explosion?

Realizations struck me like putting my hand on a burning stove.

The bus had exploded into literally a million pieces, and by looking around I was lucky enough to not be cut in half by flying shrapnel. The flaming cinder of the bus exploded again. A bit of sadness came. Damn it Bark was on that bus…And now...he's dead…

And the overcast wasn't caused by clouds…

Robots…flying machines of all sizes…

Wait a minute!

_He _was back! More importantly _I _was back! I was back in business! Sonic the hedgehog to save the day!

The grinning polar bear reappeared in my mind again. The advice he gave, the laughs we shared in that thirty minute bus ride, he helped me out a lot...

Save the day…?

At the cost of what? Bark? Me? Everyone else?

Life really is messed up…

_Maverick87-2008_

**This story is dedicated to Cornwallace and his story "Reflections", I based the idea off of that. Read it if you ever get the chance…**


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